


Shall Make You Free

by lielabell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Emotionally Constipated Boys, Humor, Love Hurts, M/M, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-24
Updated: 2011-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hold it right there," Dean cuts in, "I'm pretty damn ‘equipped’ for anything you might want to ‘engage’ in.  And it's not my fault your vessel is undersized."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shall Make You Free

Dean knows that things are about to go sideways when the demon in front of him smiles and does a complicated hand twist. There is a big flash of puke green light and all Dean can do is think “ah shit.” But then someone is crashing into him from the side, body slamming him onto the floor. And that green light? Yeah, it hits whoever the poor sap is that saved him.

"I believe I was hit with a minor curse," Cas says from directly above Dean, revealing himself as the poor sap in question. "I thought it would be much more powerful. If I had known it wasn't, I would have let it hit you."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Thanks for that, Cas. Want to get off of me now?"

"No." Cas pushes up and rolls off of Dean. "But I understand that I need to do so. We are not yet done with this demon."

Dean shakes his head as he gets to his feet. "Way to over-share," he mutters as he glances around. Sam's managed to take down the demon and is working on freeing the unlucky bastards who were about to be tonight's dinner. "Good work, Sammy," he calls out, choosing to ignore the questions Cas is now asking about over-sharing.

"You okay?" Sam asks, looking up from the lock he is picking.

"Cas took the hit," Dean replies. "Said it was a 'minor' curse and that he would have let me get blasted if he knew."

Sam laughs and shakes his head as he returns to his work. "Almost," he says, his face squinched up in concentration. "Got it!"

The door swings open, the hostages run out and Dean lets out a sigh. "Another day, another dollar," he says with a smile.

"I don't understand what the means," Cas says, completely killing the buzz Dean had going on. "I think you should explain it to me over dinner."

Dean turns his head and gives Cas his best what-the-fuck look. "Now is so not the time."

Cas nods. "Then I will wait until it is."

*

They finally, _finally_ , make it back to the Impala a good twenty minutes and thirty-two questions later. And by then even Sam, who found this whole thing just hilarious to start with, is annoyed.

"Dude, chill out with the stream-of-consciousness crap already, would you?" Sam snaps when Cas mentions that he thinks that the backseat of the Impala is the breeding ground for the next plague.

Cas gives him one of his baffled looks. "I don't see what my temperature has to do with anything."

"Stop talking," Dean clarifies.

"I don't think that I can," Cas instantly replies. "I am compelled to voice every thought that I have. I believe it is a result of the curse that the demon unleashed. I am certain now that I should have let it hit you. Then I would know what you were thinking."

Dean scowls. "Oh that's just great. You've been turned into a freaking Chatty Cathy. How the hell are we going to fix that?"

"I am not sure. Perhaps Sam can do some research while you and I are at dinner."

"Again with the dinner thing," Dean says. "If I didn't know better, I would say you were hungry."

"Don't be absurd," Cas replies. "I have no desire to eat."

Sam twists in his seat to look at Cas. "Then what’s got you all hot and bothered about dinner, Cas?"

Cas smiles. "I like watching Dean eat."

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy the shit out of this," Sam says with a laugh as he faces forward again.

"I am not," Cas retorts and Dean can't help but agree with him.

*

"Do you have any pie?" Cas asks when the waitress comes to take their drink order. "Dean is particularly fond of pie. Sometimes I think he would eat just that if he could."

The waitress, an overweight woman with bleach-blonde hair and a set of press-on nails, just laughs. "You and me both, sugar," she chortles, aiming a wink in Dean's direction.

Dean clears his throat and smiles. "He's right, I do love me some pie," he says, because what the hell else is he supposed to say?

"Well, we have apple, peach, pecan, Boston cream and lemon meringue." She pulls a pen from behind her ear. "What'll it be?"

"One slice of each," Cas replies before Dean can say anything. "He'll also have a Coke and one of your bacon cheeseburgers. I will have a glass of water. Please add a slice of lemon. I find it greatly improves the taste."

The waitress smiles sweetly at both of them, a knowing look coming into her eyes. "I'd keep him," she mock-whispers to Dean with another wink. "Any man who is fine with you having five pieces of pie in one sitting is a man you just don't let go of, if you know what I mean."

Dean gives her an awkward smile. "Yes ma'am," he says as he aims a swift kick at Cas's shins. Cas, damn his angel hide, doesn't even wince.

"How am I going to eat five pieces of pie?" he asks when she moves out of ear shot.

Cas lifts a shoulder. "I don't know, but I'm sure you will manage it when the time comes." He leans in, confusion in his eyes. "Dean, did that woman think that we were a couple?"

Dean gives him a nasty look. "Of course she did, what else was she supposed to think, what with you ordering for me and all."

"I very much like the idea of being a couple with you," Cas says, then slaps a hand over his mouth as his face contorts itself into a look of horror.

"You what?" Dean asks in surprise.

"I very much like the idea of being a couple with you," Cas repeats miserably. "But I didn't want you to know that. And now that you do, I am concerned about how it will effect our friendship. In fact, I no longer want to be here. I do not think I will find it enjoyable to watch you eat your pie after all."

"The hell you are going anywhere," Dean grits out, his hand closing around Cas's wrist, just in case. "You just ordered me a mountain of food and then practically asked me to be your boyfriend. And if you think for one second that you are just going to flit out of here without spilling your guts, you have another think coming."

Cas blinks at him. "You do not have to shout, Dean. I can hear you just fine. And holding my wrist, while very pleasant for me, will not prevent me from leaving if I desire to do so."

"I know that," Dean blusters, removing his hand.

Cas almost smiles. "I think that you sometimes forget that I am an angel."

Dean frowns. "Guess again, buck-o."

"Buck-o?"

Dean shakes his head. "You’re not going to distract me here. I'm on to you now, Castiel." He narrows his eyes at the tight-lipped look that comes over Cas's face, then grins as a wonderfully horrible idea pops into his mind. "So," he says causally, "how long have you been in love with me?"

"One year, six days, nine hours, fifteen minutes and twenty-eight seconds," Cas promptly replies, a surly-as-shit look on his face. "Although right now I cannot figure out why I should have any such feeling for you at all."

"It's because I'm so damn sexy, isn't it?" Dean teases, relaxing back into the booth with a smile.

Cas squints at him. "I was not attracted to your appearance. In fact, I would have preferred it if you were in a completely different 'meat suit,' pardon the expression, entirely."

Dean swallows back a mouthful of indignation and takes a few of those deep breaths everyone is always nattering on about. It doesn't do a damn thing. "What the hell is wrong with my 'meat suit'?"

"It's," Cas makes a face, "larger than mine. And not very well equipped to engage in..."

"Hold it right there," Dean cuts in, "I'm pretty damn ‘equipped’ for anything you might want to ‘engage’ in. And it's not my fault your vessel is undersized."

There is a choked laugh from the next table over and Dean winces and lowers his voice. "Trust me, you pretty little princess you, if I ever 'engage' my 'equipment' with you, you will be damn thankful I'm in this meat."

"I didn't intend to insult you," Cas says in that emotional-robot way of his. "And I have very little desire to engage in that sort of activity with you. I am certain it would be most unpleasant and that both of us would later regret having taken that course of action."

"But," Dean splutters, because that makes no sense at all, "you're in love with me."

This time Cas does smile. "Yes. Very much so. But not with the physical being that is you, Dean. No. I am in love with the essence of you. Your very soul. What is physical appearance in comparison to that?"

"Oh, honey, that is just about the most romantic thing I have ever heard," gushes their waitress, who is holding their drinks with the sappiest look on her face in the history of the world.

"What can I say? He's a charmer," Dean says through gritted teeth, trying to wrap his head around why he is as upset as he is about Cas not being into him.

"You're so lucky," she says with a wistful little sigh. "If my Sal had ever said anything near so romantic, well, I wouldn't have thrown his broke behind out."

Dean really doesn't give a damn about what she thinks or what 'her' Sal did or didn't say to her, but he's been around long enough to know how these things work. So he slaps on his best besotted grin, glances at her name tag and says, "Well now, Flo, I'm sure your Sal would have said just that to you if he had known how much it would mean to you."

She flushes prettily, or as prettily as a middle-aged waitress ever can be, and sets down their drinks in a flutter of "oh yous" and clucking noises. "I'll be right out with that pie," she says and Dean can almost swear he sees hearts floating above her head as she walks away.

"That was a lie," Cas says, a frown on his face. "I'm surprised she believed it."

"Yeah, well, women will believe almost anything you tell them if you smile sweet enough while you say it," Dean replies with a shrug.

"That is also a lie," Cas counters. "Women are much smarter than you give them credit for."

Dean chuckles. "Not around me they aren't. They like my meat, no matter what you might think about it."

"If I had known how much it would upset you, I wouldn't have mentioned it." Cas frowns. "Actually, I would have. I have not yet figured out how to prevent the curse I am under from compelling me to. I would, however, have made more of an attempt to discover how to do just that if I had known where your line of questioning was leading. Perhaps that is of some comfort to you. Perhaps not. I am never certain on these things. Humans are so messy when it comes to their emotions."

Dean snorts. "We can't all be robots like you, Cas."

"Angels are not robots."

"I know that."

"Then why did you..."

"Oh look!" Dean cuts him off. "Pie!"

*

"I believe I have seriously offended your brother by telling him that I am not sexually interested in him," Cas says when Sam makes the mistake of asking them how their dinner went.

"Dude," Dean snaps. "I said I'm cool. Drop it already."

"Yeah," Sam scoffs, "totally cool. I can tell."

Dean gives him stink-eye. "Have you figured out how to put a cork in Mr. Over-Share over there?"

Sam shakes his head. "No luck."

"Well isn't that just peachy." Dean drops face down onto his bed.

"I think you should talk about it," Cas says like Dean actually wanted to hear his opinion. "I am finding it very liberating to say what is on my mind. For example, Sam, you really need to avoid foods that are hard for your body to break down. Doing so would help with your digestion and reduce the amount of gas in your intestines."

Sam looks like he's sucked on a lemon. "Uh, thanks for the advice."

"Also, you should look into purchasing a different type of shampoo and conditioner. Your hair never looks clean. I believe that is considered unattractive."

"You know what I think," Sam starts to say but Dean cuts him off with a sharp look. Sam does that displeased-lip-purse of his, but just lets out a sigh and returns to him computer.

"Good choice," Dean says as he toes out of his shoes and snakes an arm under his pillow. "Now I'm going to make an equally good choice and go to sleep. Cas, you should just not talk or something."

"May I watch you sleep?"

Dean rubs his face on his pillow. "Only if you promise not to say anything to piss off Sammy while I'm out of it."

"I can't make that promise."

"And I can't make you not watch me sleep." Dean crawls under the covers. "Try to have him fixed by morning, Sammy. I don't think I can take another day of this."

Sam murmurs something, but Dean's already too out of it to catch what it is.

*

Dean is jolted awake by a loud crash followed by Sam shouting, “Oh my God, shut up!”

"I thought I told you not to piss off Sammy," he mutters blearily, swinging his head around to glare at Cas.

Cas gives him those dead-eyes of his. "I told you I couldn't make that promise."

"I am so leaving," Sam says as he yanks on his jacket. "You babysit the King of Broken Records for a while, why don't you?"

Dean blinks at him. "You okay, Sammy? You know it's not personal. He can't control it, being cursed and all."

Sam snorts. "Whatever." He walks out the door. "I'll get breakfast while I'm out," he says before he slams it shut behind him.

"None of your health food crap," Dean shouts, though he doubts that Sam can hear him. He pushes himself up into sitting position and grinds the palms of his hands into his eyes. "Jesus, Cas, couldn't you have waited a few more hours before you pissed him off? It's stupid early and I was in the middle of a good dream."

“Was I in it?”

Dean drops his hands from his face and gives Cas a frustrated look. “No, you weren’t. Not unless you were suddenly transformed into a Burmese girl with a mouth like a Hoover.”

“I’m not sure what that means, but I am certain that I was not that girl.”

“Didn’t think so.”

Cas moves across the room and sits next to Dean on the bed. “Sometimes I think it would be advantageous for my vessel to have been one of the busty Asian beauties you are so interested in. Although I have noticed that you never seem to pursue them when given a chance. So perhaps it’s for that best that my vessel is what it is.”

“I would have lived my whole life not knowing that and still have died happy,” Dean says with a sour look. “Did you say something just as brain-bleach inducing to Sammy? Is that why he ran out in a huff?”

“No.”

Dean frowns. “Not going to share with the class?”

Cas’s face goes all contorted and turns an unnatural shade of red.

"You're trying to fight the curse!" Dean says a second before Cas lets lose a flood of words.

"I told Sam that I didn't understand why I feel the way I do about you. You are pig-headed and stupid and, quite frankly, the most obnoxious person I have ever met. You’re noisy and messy and have a number of revolting personal habits. You never listen to anything I tell you, change your mind at the most inconvenient times and feel compelled to shout whenever things do not go your way.”

“Alright!” Dean shouts, jumping out of bed and waving his arm wildly like that will stop the torrent of words. “Enough already. I get it.”

Cas snaps his mouth shut, then lets out a shuddering sigh and says, “No. I don’t believe that you do. I have grown weary of your company.”

And just like that he’s gone.

*

“Dude,” Sam says a good three hours later when he finally gets back from wherever the hell he’s been, “what is wrong with you now?”

Dean swallows a bite of cheeseburger and burps. “Nothing is wrong with me.”

Sam snorts. “Hum, let me see. You’ve made a pyramid out of cheeseburger wrappers, there’s a half-empty bottle of Jack on the table and you’ve got _Love Hurts_ on repeat. Something is _clearly_ wrong with you.” He looks around the room and sighs. “A lot of somethings, actually.”

“Something’s going to be wrong with you if you don’t shut your pie-hole,” Dean says, tossing down his cheeseburger.

“Is this about Cas?” Sammy crosses his arms over his chest and gives Dean his best Dr. Phil look. “Because, seriously.”

“Seriously what?” Dean snaps. “Seriously ignore the fact that he...” he trails off with a shake of the head.

“Thinks you crap unicorns and rainbows?”

Dean does a double take. “What?”

“Dude’s got such a hard-on for you,” Sam says with a wince. “It’s kind of uncomfortable making, if you know what I mean. Why do you think I had to get the hell out of dodge this morning? I was afraid he was going to start telling me all about his secret fantasies about licking your teeth or something.”

Dean opens his mouth, then shuts it, then opens it again. He is saved from having to say anything, however, by the arrival of the angel in question.

“It seems that no one in heaven is pleased with my current state of being,” he says without preamble. “They have requested that I take myself away until I can return to my normal, less vocal, self.”

“Oh goody.” Sam rolls his eyes. He yanks open the door. “If you need me I’ll be stabbing myself repeatedly in the eye with a spork.”

Cas turns to Dean with a confused look on his face. “What is a spork and why would Sam want to blind himself with one?”

Dean laughs. “Uh, he’s not actually going to do that, Cas.”

“Then why did he say it?”

“Sammy was just,” he shakes his head, “being Sammy. But who cares about that right now. Do you really want to lick my teeth?”

Cas cocks his head to the side and studies Dean’s mouth like he’s never seen it before. “Would you enjoy it if I did?”

Dean sort of chokes at that. “Uh,” he runs a hand through his hair. “Are you seriously asking me? Because last time I checked you were sort of ranting about how unsexy and unlovable I am.” Cas glances away, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. And that is all it takes for a light-bulb to go off in Dean’s head. “You sneaky little bastard! You lied to me!” he accuses.

“I am not cursed to tell the truth, Dean,” Cas says, a full on smile coming across his face. “I am only cursed to say what I am thinking. But what I am thinking can change between when it crosses my mind and when I start to speak. Once I realized that, all I had to do was quickly think of something else when I happened to think about things that I didn’t want you to know.”

“That’s ten types of convoluted,” Dean says with a frown.

Cas lifts a shoulder. “It makes more sense when not put into words.”

It’s clear to Dean that Cas is more than a little pleased with himself and, damn it, that’s all kinds of sexy. He clears his throat and gives Cas a speculative look. If he could lie about that, then maybe... Dean smirks a little, a plan forming in his brain.

“And here I thought I would never live to see the day where _you_ managed to pull a fast one on me,” he says with a coy smile and more than a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I am always faster than you,” Cas replies as he does that half-creepy-half-hot staring thing of his.

Dean grins. “Oh, sure you are,” he says, stepping around the table so that he is mere inches away from Cas.

“You have never come this close to me of your own volition before,” Cas says, his eyes widening.

Dean smirks. “I never knew what a kinky son-of-a-bitch you were before.” He leans in so that his mouth is touching the shell of Cas’s ear. “Got anywhere else on me you’d like to lick?”

And just like that Cas is on him, hands in his hair, teeth nibbling at his neck, hips rocking maddeningly against him. Dean lets out a moan, then cups Cas’s chin in his hand and lifts his face up. He takes a moment to savor the look in Cas’s eyes -- a wonderful combination of confusion, hunger and anticipation -- before angling his head and moving in for what he hopes will be the first of many, many kisses.


End file.
